


Seized by Normality

by wanderingempress



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Hopeful Ending, Other, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:58:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingempress/pseuds/wanderingempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LaFontaine thinks they're the same as ever. Perry knows better. Straight-up LaFerry, set almost immediately after episode 29. Safe For Cast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seized by Normality

**Author's Note:**

> Go Annie and Kaitlyn (oh captain, our captain!) for a) a long, lovely stretch of relatively safe, adorable shipping, b) killer performances and much-appreciated generosity with fandom. Respect and mad kudos.
> 
> Occurs very shortly after LaF's return. Yes, I know that LaFerry hasn't had the pronoun talk yet, but I'm making things hard enough for Perry in this fic that I'm letting her get them right anyway.

LaFontaine pulled the spray bottle from Perry’s hand, noting the brittle resistance they met.

“No, seriously, what is going on with you guys?”

“Nothing,” Perry said firmly. “It’s all going to be fine.”

LaFontaine shook their head. _What’s going to be fine?_ They had found themself outside the library, slightly dazed and not sure what had just happened, which was a little strange but, hey, sometimes that happened to a person, especially at this time of year. They had come back to an immaculate, meticulously tidy (save for their still-unmade bed), empty room that morning, which was always a little startling but not wholly out of the ordinary. They had wondered for a moment at the unmade bed and gone on to find their friends. But then when they’d dropped by Laura and Carmilla’s room, things had gotten _weird_.

Once the crying had stopped, Perry had taken it upon herself to begin conducting “surprise room inspections,” and the way that she eyed her residents’ post-midterm clutter was a sight to behold that invariably led them to make a rapid, somewhat apologetic exit.

Now she was kneeling, scrubbing the exploded contents from a sophomore’s microwave with a rare vigor, the poor girl long fled to safety. LaFontaine stood above Perry, befuddled.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” they persisted. “This…isn’t like you.” _This is like you with superpowers_ , LaFontaine thought, _which is kind of cool but also kind of scary_.

Perry saw that she was on the verge of rubbing through her gloves, and also on the verge of running out of things to clean again. “Yes—it’s all going to be fine,” she repeated. “I’m instituting a new policy.”

She stilled herself for a moment, staring down at her knees. Susan—damn, _LaFontaine_ —was back, and that was good, wasn’t it? But something was wrong, and they didn’t get it. They had no idea. And how could she tell them? There was nothing in the handbook, or in the dons’ manual, or in Laura and Carmilla’s big Sumerian book, or anywhere, about how to handle this, how to handle obliviously brain-altered best friends (well, not altered like _that_ ), and Perry’s go-to strategies were beginning to fail her.

“I was going to start doing these a week ago,” she said, the lie twisting in her heart. “There have been too many incidents with unwanted mushrooms lately, and they’re obviously indicators of a widespread hygiene problem. I’m just behind schedule, that’s all. Making up for lost time. Nothing to worry about.” She resumed scrubbing with renewed enthusiasm.

“But…you _are_ worrying about something,” LaFontaine said. “Perr, I’ve known you for a long time. I know when you’re not yourself, just the way you know me, and if something’s wrong—”

At this, Perry bolted. Bolted back to the immaculate room that would surely soon enough be marred by cerebrospinal fluid that she would never, ever be able to get out of the rug or off her hands or out of her dreams. The plate of brownies still on the table, filling the air with a scent that had gone from comforting to overwhelming, the whole room seemed to say, _none of this is enough_. Perry collapsed onto her bed, shoes and all, alone.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, how long the tears fell, how long she listened to her own uneven breaths, but soon they were joined by LaFontaine’s slow footsteps in the doorway.

“Perr?” an uncertain voice asked.

Perry didn’t trust herself to speak. She lay still, waiting. She heard the footsteps come closer, stop, retreat. Then, running water in the distance, approaching footsteps again, and her mattress sank under a new weight.

“Perry.” The usual even voice, but quiet and still with traces of concern. “Perry, look at me.”

She pulled herself up. LaFontaine was sitting beside her, looking earnestly at her tearstained face. They stroked her cheek with a thumb, still searching her eyes, and shook their head slowly.

“Perry,” they said again. “I don’t know what’s going on—and something is _obviously_ going on,” they added as she readied herself to launch into denial again. “Something is going on, and it’s driving you absolutely crazy that you can’t tell me.”

Perry wanted to believe that she hadn’t been that transparent, but LaFontaine’s expression and her own heart reminded her that she had no other way of being with them and hadn’t for a long time. “I’m sorry?” she offered.

“It’s okay,” LaFontaine said simply. They scooted closer to her and took one of her hands.

Perry looked down, registering the gesture— _they remember me, they remember us. Even if they_ —

LaFontaine was smiling at her now, raising a warm, damp cloth to Perry’s face. “I don’t know what’s wrong, and I don’t understand, and something makes me wonder if it’s something about me. But,” they continued as she felt another pang at their words and as they began to dab and wipe away the tears stalled on her cheeks, “I know that we’ll figure it out, and we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Perry looked into LaFontaine’s eyes, which were studying her face as the washcloth passed gently across it, and she nearly teared up again. A thought crossed her mind, _so this is how I must look to them so often_ , and a broken laugh escaped her.

LaFontaine noted to themself that whatever was terrifying Perry was also somehow funny, but said nothing, waiting.

“What if…what if we don’t?” she ventured, surprised at her own honesty.

LaFontaine looked at her in renewed confusion. Their heart broke for her, but what on earth was going on? Why so much fear? Was it so dire, whatever it was? Should they be afraid, and was it bad that they were only now beginning to feel a creeping unease? “We will,” they said, trying to infuse the two words with as much confidence as possible. “Just trust me. Whatever happens—“ An idea struck them. “Whatever happens,” they said again, holding Perry by the shoulders and looking straight into her anxious eyes, “it’s all going to be fine."

And at that, LaFontaine pulled Perry into their arms, spirits lifting ever so slightly as they felt her smiling against their shoulder. As they held her closer, they heard her whisper—half determined declaration, half desperate-sounding wish—“It’s all going to be fine. It’s all going to be fine.”


End file.
